


Cinders

by pilindiel



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Marco Lives and Jean Dies, POV Marco Bott, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 16:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11421759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilindiel/pseuds/pilindiel
Summary: I stay long after everyone as left, long after the fire has smoldered out and drenched the field in darkness.  I sit down finally, and pull my knees up to my chest.  I have no idea how long I've been out here and I'm so close I should be able to feel the residual heat of the embers, but nothing touches my chilled skin.





	Cinders

The fire scorches the wood and the sickening stench of burning flesh clogs my lungs. But still I watch, un-moving, even as the smoke burns my eyes and buries itself in my chest. I try not to think about how Jean's body is somewhere in there. How, even if I sifted though the ashes, I'd never know which ones were his. All I know is that my gentle encouragements lead him to this, to this pyre and this smoke.

The guilt builds like bile and I'm choking on it but I blame the tears in my eyes on the smog, stinging and sharp. Everyone's watching – I can feel their eyes poking like needles into my skin – and they're expecting me to fall apart, to fall to my knees and mourn.

_**Marco is fragile,**_ they'd say. _**He has a soft heart.**_

They don't need to know that what's left of my heart is nestled in those flames, burning up with the wood.

I stay long after everyone as left, long after the fire has smoldered out and drenched the field in darkness. I sit down finally, and pull my knees up to my chest. I have no idea how long I've been out here and I'm so close I should be able to feel the residual heat of the embers, but nothing touches my chilled skin.

If I focus on them enough, I can almost see his smirk, can almost see his hazel eyes and scruffy hair. I hold onto it, even though I can feel myself shaking.

“I'm joining the Survey Corps,” I tell him, and I can almost see the shock on his face. I smile, just a little – the self-deprecating one I know Jean hates – and I pull my legs a little closer, a little more protectively. “I can't help people in the interior,” is the excuse I give. I know Jean would raise an eyebrow at that and I sigh, resting my chin on my arms.

No use lying to a ghost.

“I don't deserve to be safe,” I admit quietly and I can see his face fall, his expression severe and soured. I smile again, I can't help it, and my voice cracks on the syllables. “I let you die, after all.” I don't even realize there are tears making tracks through the ashes on my face and I choke on my words, stumbling through the guilt that's finally weaseled its way up my throat.

“I...I couldn't protect you,” I admit, grabbing fistfuls of hair, “It's my fault I should've...Should've been there I...” My heart is pounding and my tears feel like they break through me and I'm trembling. I shake my head and close my eyes but the sobs keep coming, keep punching the air from my lungs.

“Y-You were...You were the stronger one,” I wheeze, shaking my head, “You...You were the better _**leader**_ and I...” I swallow hard, but nothing dislodges the lump in my throat, “I...It should have been _**me**_ , Jean.”

My vision swirls as I try to focus and one of the embers pops sparks and dislodges itself, tumbling towards my boot. I watch as it pulses, a heartbeat of the fire long gone, and I lift my right hand from its bruising grip on my knees.

I'm shaking but I feel empty, my mind blank. When I lower the back of my palm onto the dying coal I don't even feel the way it sears into my skin, burning deep into the hollows of my body.

_**What the fuck are you doing, Bodt?!** _

Then it's like hand grabs me, rough and strong and determined, and I'm roused to my feet, clutching my hand as the skin turns red and blisters.

Even as I stumble away from the field and towards the medical bay, I know I leave my soul behind, stuck between the wood and the ashes.

 

* * *

 

The fresh faced cadets love Marco's enthusiasm and style. They love his gentle chiding and kind encouragements, and they always go to Squad Leader Bodt with questions and concerns. They don't even care that his smiles never meet his eyes – he's nice, and that's better than most. Cadets argue about who is more attractive around the dinner tables: Eren, with his broad shoulders and stunning eyes, or Marco, with his biceps and five o'clock shadow. (They end up agreeing, of course, that Sasha and Mikasa are the hottest out of all of them and go back to their soup.)

It's only when they're asleep and Marco is commiserating with the other squad leaders that the smile slips and his stare is solemn. It's only then that his thumb idly brushes the scar on the back of his hand and only then that his eyes mist over and he loses track of time.

No one bothers him. No one questions.

Some people just need to live with their ghosts.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many ideas about Marco living and Jean dying. How Marco never truly moves on, how he ends up dealing with this for the rest of his life. How Levi tries to confront him about it, only for Marco to snap at him to back the fuck off and if it's not affecting his work that it doesn't matter.
> 
> Also I love ruggedly!Handsome Marco. He would be such a heartthrob.


End file.
